Sgt. 1st Class Kalani Agard looked sharp. He checked himself out in the mirror. His beret had the right tilt; the new insignia freshly sewn onto his uniform had that extra stripe that would mean some extra pay at the end of the month. He had just finished his one hour of exercise in the gym in the Kalaeloa Army National Guard Headquarters.
Kalani liked the Kalaeloa headquarters better than the Diamond Head facility the Guard had vacated earlier in the year. It was air conditioned, had the gym, and had lunch wagons with every kind of plate lunch you could want parked off the side roads around Kalaeloa. Kalani was the unofficial plate lunch scout for his group at headquarters, though he was mentally beginning to tally up the calorie count of some of those lunches. He needed to stay fit to keep his job.
So, drive-home time. That was the aggravation at the end of every day, and this week was the worst. The drive to Kalama Valley was fine when he worked downtown, but hitting the freeway at Kapolei and holding down the center lane all the way to Hawaii Kai and Kalama was no fun. It made him tired just to think of it. And now, this week’s road construction was forcing him to cross to the Windward side and drive through Waimanalo and around Makapuu. Sure, his Corolla was tough, but this would be the fifth day of the wearing commute.
As Kalani drove, the fatigue of the day started to set in. He turned up the a/c, blasted some old-time rock ‘n’ roll and started to think of the evening ahead. It would probably be just like the last four days: He would be so tired that he would flop on the couch with his two youngest kids while they argued about what video to watch, then help the oldest with the ton of homework that he brought home every day.
Why did he have so much homework?
Then he wondered if he would see "her" again. Every day this week when he got around Makapuu to turn onto Mokuhano Street, he saw a girl, about 8 years old, just standing on the corner. Every day he stopped at the corner and looked at her. Their eyes met and he waved at her; she had such a strange look and would slowly raise her hand in return as he rounded the corner. He would forget about it once he got to the house where the whirlwind of homework, TV, dinner and baths awaited him. But now he thought more and more about her. Maybe there was something wrong. Why would a girl be out on the street like that?
The more he thought about it the more it bothered him. He tried not to be superstitious, but there were many stories about the region he drove through every day. His grandmother was pure Hawaiian and told many stories of apparitions and gave advice on how to placate the spirits. He felt a chill, but then laughed at himself for entertaining such thoughts.
As he reached the road into Kalama, he slowed the car. He could see her. Just as on every other day that week, their eyes met, he waved and rounded the corner. As he looked in the rear-view mirror, he saw her dart across the street to the corner house.
Some impulse caused him to stop the car, get out and run after the girl. Maybe she was in trouble.
"Mama, Mama! I saw him again! The bloody man in the crashed car!"
"I told you not to go out there again," said the girl’s mother.
"Mama, I can’t help it."
The man of the house demanded to know what it was about.
"She says she has seen the soldier in his car every day. The one who was killed Monday at Makapuu when his car blew a tire."
Kalani stood at the entrance to the house. The girl turned and saw him.
"Mama, he is here now."
Kalani backed away and looked up to see the stars just beginning to show and knew he would not finish his drive that night.
